“What happens now?”
Peggy shrugged. “Mai is talking to the ME. I’m sure they’ll compare the samples again. Mine isn’t within the guidelines for the chain of evidence, so it can’t be used. It can only point them in the right direction. I don’t really know, after that.”
“Do you think other people were poisoned as well and didn’t realize it?” Sam glanced at the delivery schedule for the day.
“I’m sure the police will contact the manufacturer. We’ll see then.”
“Well, let me know. I lost a good pair of jeans to this exercise. I thought bleach would take the smell out.” He grinned. “It did. But it also shredded my new white jeans.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.” She hid a smile and touched his hand. “I’ll be glad to get you a new pair.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage. Next time I’ll just roll around in some manure and save myself the cost of a bottle of bleach. No one will notice the difference.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m off to work in Madelyn Montgomery’s yard. Those Gold Mop thread cyprus are going to look great. Anything you need before I go?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Say hello to her for me. Be careful you plant those cypress trees deep enough. You don’t want their roots to come out looking for water over the summer.”
He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Yeah. Because I’ve only planted a million of them in the last two years. See you later. I’ll keep in touch.”
Peggy was ready for customers. But they didn’t seem to be eager to rush out into the cold morning. She finally caught up with everything on her list and couldn’t find anything else to do. She ran across the way to get some tea from Emil and Sofia, who quizzed her about Park and Isabelle’s deaths. She pushed off the interrogation by telling them she had to hurry back to the shop. But when she got back, the shop was still empty.
She missed Shakespeare’s presence and hoped he’d be able to come to the Potting Shed with her again soon. Selena wouldn’t be in until lunchtime that day. Keeley was helping Sam with the Montgomery yard. With no customers, the shop was too quiet and too empty. Usually she liked it that way, but this morning her mind was too preoccupied with everything else to appreciate it as a haven. She sat down to peer through her gardening catalogs, but her heart wasn’t in that either.
Instead, she found herself logging on the computer to look up Elmwood Farms on the Internet. It was possible other cases of poisoning had been reported. If a large batch of honey was bad, hundreds of people could be affected.
She had just put in the name when an instant message popped up for her from Nightflyer.
“good morning, nightrose. found your culprit yet?”
“if you mean the poisoned honey, yes.”
“i was thinking more of who gave your friend the honey.”
“do you have some idea who that is?”
“check out some newspapers for names. maybe other people have been poisoned. They might have something in common with your friend.”
The small IM screen told her that Nightflyer had gone off-line. His cryptic message was annoying. This was important to her. If he had information that could help, she wished he’d just give it to her. Everything seemed like a game to him. It was hard to imagine John liking the man, as forthright as John was. But maybe Nightflyer had changed. Maybe there was more to it than she realized.
The Elmwood Farms’ page finally came up. A green, grassy meadow with pretty elm trees and a bright red barn gave the index page a nice profile. Who wouldn’t want to buy honey or any of the other products they had? It looked very wholesome and appealing.
She clicked on the product list when she saw no warning signs on the opening page. Was it possible no one else had reported problems with the honey? Elmwood Farms’ products included fresh eggs, honey, butter, cheese, and various cakes and breads. There was no sign of anything wrong on any of the Web site pages.
Peggy checked out her normal news sites. She couldn’t find any stories about Elmwood Farms. But she did find an article about a mysterious poisoning in Dubuque, Iowa. When she clicked on the link to the story, she read about another man who’d been poisoned by substances unknown. He was recovering in the hospital after being treated. She wrote down all of the information about the case and forwarded the link to her home computer.
As terrible as it was to think it, more than one poisoning could save Beth from further investigation. If the bees from Elmwood got into a batch of horse chestnut, that was no wrongdoing on anyone’s part. Maybe it was all a terrible mistake.
Except for Isabelle . . .
By that time, customers were starting to come into the store. Her mind seethed with the possibilities as she rang up sales on her new antique garden furniture selection. The unit was designed to look like an 1890s cupboard but was made of treated lumber and wrought iron so it could be used outdoors to store garden supplies.
The beauty of the sales was that she didn’t have to stock more than one of the cupboards. The company drop shipped directly from her orders to the customers’ homes. She had to do what she could with limited space and an ever-questing market of gardeners looking for new products. The cupboards would be functional and enhance the beauty of the yard as well.
Selena came in at noon. Her morning exams didn’t go well. She looked like a little girl who was denied a toy. “Dammit, Peggy!” She slammed her book bag on the counter after seeing there was no one else in the shop. “I did a good job on those essays! Professor Martin hates me. I don’t know why, but he’s got it in for me.”
“From the other side of the aisle,” Peggy rebutted, “maybe he thinks you could do better. Have you talked with him?”
“If you’re going to get someone to work harder, giving them a bad grade isn’t much incentive. Now I feel like coasting through the rest of the year. I’ve tried hard in that class. What’s the point if nothing I do is good enough?”
“You should definitely talk to him, Selena,” Peggy advised, picking up her jacket and book bag. “I hate to have to run, but I have that appointment with the dog trainer this afternoon. Talk to Professor Martin. Ask him what the problem is.”
Selena pushed her book bag behind the counter and plopped down on the rocking chair. “I know what his problem is. He’s an arrogant idiot. He’s so full of himself he can’t see past the end of his nose. And he’s got a really big nose, so he’s probably been that way all of his life! I can’t stand him. No one can.”
Peggy laughed. “Thinking about him that way won’t help. I should be back by four. Maybe you can take off early and go see him. Work something out. I’ll talk to you later. We’ve been a little busy in the last hour.
“I get the idea.” Selena tied on her green Potting Shed apron. “I think you might be seeing this as a professor instead of my friend. Maybe by the time you come back, you could try to be more receptive to my whining.”
“I’ll do the best I can, sweetie. Take care.” Peggy ignored the rumbling in her stomach as she smelled the delicious aromas coming from Anthony’s Caribbean Café. She raced home on her bike, grateful for the dry streets under the warm February sun. It was a good day for Sam and Keeley, too. It could be difficult to schedule planting days in the winter between the cold and the rain, but the landscaping business was an important aspect of what the Potting Shed did to survive.
She picked up her mail and let herself in the house. Shakespeare was barking and howling, throwing himself against the door in the pantry. But at least everything else in the house was the way she left it that morning. Measuring his discomfort against her own seemed unfair, but she had to survive, too.